


Harry Potter and the Deadly Abridgment: Chapter 1, The Dark Lord in the Hizouse.

by Sketchington



Series: Harry Potter and the Deadly Abridgment [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Gen, Harry Potter - Freeform, Parody, Satire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchington/pseuds/Sketchington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satire of Chapter One, The Dark Lord Ascending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Deadly Abridgment is a chapter-for-chapter satire of J K Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." All characters, situations, and related indicia are copyright, trademark, and everything else J K Rowling.

Chapter One: The Dark Lord in the Hizouse.

Two men appeared out of nowhere like some kinda wizards or something. They exchanged small talk as they walked up to a handsome manor house that grew out of the darkness. There was a white peacock. Remember that, it has no impact on the story. They entered a large room, lit only by an imposing fireplace. Dark figures sat along the table. Through the darkness looks of scorn for those born of a lower status or living lives of compassion etched their faces. It was obvious that the members of this group, to reiterate, were powerful masters of dark and evil arts. Or Thatcherian Toris.  
"Yaxley. Snape." came a high-pitched voice that Ralph Fiennes couldn't pull off. "You're very almost late." The source of the voice came from the head of the table. Before the fireplace sat a man or something. Might've been a sleestack. Maybe that Gorn thing from Star Trek but with less nose. "Snape," said the noseless man with red eyes (he has red eyes by the way) "sit here." He indicated the seat next to him. "Yaxley. You sit at the bitch table," he droned, gesturing to the small table in the back where a long-haired albino and a Russian sat in tiny chairs, their knees up to their chins. "So...?" he continued after they'd taken their seats, "whatup?"  
Yaxley spoke from his scrunched position. "We've taken over the minds of some of the ministry higher-ups. As for the boy---"  
"The boy is being moved Saturday---" Snape said cutting accross Yaxley, but only figuratively. For now. "They won't use the flu network because they don't trust the Ministry. They won't apparate to the new location because mfflmffl." Snape said muffling the last few words with his long, thin fingers.  
"They won't apparate because what, Severus?" prodded the Dark Lord.  
"Because mfflmffl," responded Snape, smothering the end of his sentence again like Great Great Aunt Ester that night when you just didn't want to hear her say another word about how much milk costs these days. We heard you Ester. We don't have room for a damn cow in our apartment.  
"Mfflmffl," repeated the backlit figure, his lipless mouth betraying a hint of a smile, a smirk, a grimmace, a snicker, a scowl, and a grin, his red eyes glinting. He had red eyes, by the way. "Excellent. We'll take him then. I'll need a new wand. Mine appears to be gay for Potter's wand. Someone from the bitch table give me theirs. Uhhh... Malfoy. You don't get to have nice things." With reluctance Lucius Malfoy stood and presented his wand. Voldemort (for that was the name of the creepy baby-looking man) compared the two wands and noticed how much smaller, thinner and limp Malfoy's was.  
"Voldemort! I love you baby! Look at me!" came the voice of a dark woman from the middle of the table. Batshitrix LeStrange was waving, blowing kisses, and lifting the front of her robe, showing petite breasts not seen since Fight Club.  
"Daddy loves you, baby," Vodlemort said, clicking his teeth. His giant, long, thick snake Nagini wrapped around his shoulders, not representing a penis at all.

Video adaptation found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50rHxDBALWI


	2. Harry Potter and the Deadly Abridgment: Chapter 2, In M'bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satire of Deathly Hallows, Chapter 2: In Memoriam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Deadly Abridgment is a chapter-for-chapter satire of J K Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." All characters, situations, and related indicia are copyright, trademark, and everything else J K Rowling.

Chapter Two In M'bedroom

 

Harry Potter sulked in his shitty room at Number four Privett Drive. He was cleaning out his trunk, which he'd put off cleaning for six years. Oh, he was SO gonna do it during the summer holidays after his first year, but he'd just defeated the non-corporeal Voldemort and he figured that he deserved a rest.  Then the summer after that, he had so much nothing to do.  Then the summer after that he just couldn't be bothered.  Then during the summer after his fourth year he wished his trunk could just hold infinite items, and that just made him lie in bed dreaming of the perfect trunk. Yeah, this perfect trunk could hold all kinds of stuff. Why, this magical trunk could keep a whole flat's-worth of junk in it. Yeah. Oh, but it would be heavy.  Maybe it could float? Nah. Oh! What if it had hundreds of tiny legs underneath it? And it was mildly sociopathic? His thoughts went on like this, his trunk getting more and more cluttered. The year after that his godfather died and he just couldn't bother doing anything.  Last year, he just didn't want to.

But this year he'd clean it out. He pawed through it pulling out objects, memories, and bits of exposition. There was a LOT of exposition in the trunk. A bit of mirror with a bit of piercing blue eye in it. A button reading "Potter Stinks!" in big letters. Written in much smaller type blinked the words "Reserve your copy of The Half-Blood Prince at Barnes & Noble." A locket with a note in it. An entire copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. He thought about each object in turn, laying the foundation for red herrings and plotpoints further on in the book. These introspections reminded the reader of some of the important events of the last six books, and catching up anyone who'd waited until book seven to read the series.

He sulked with super-human teenaged angst like Spiderman. Maybe Ultimate Spiderman. The latest edition of the Daily Prophet caught his gaze. He opened up to an obituary written by Elphias Doge for Harry's surrogate Gandalf, I mean grandfather, Albus Dumbledore.

 

When I first met Albus, I was eleven and we shared a car on the Hogwarts express. A brainy girl who could barely act joined us. We all became fast best pals.  He was quite a guy with a previously unmentioned brother and sister. The sister died. Remember that.

 

At the top of his stack of papers was a copy of the Daily Prophet after the takeover by Rupert Murdock. The cover held an article by Betty Breathwaitfordshireington.

 

I had the pleasure of sitting down and talking to Rita Skeeter recently in her home. I wanted to discuss her new book Dumbledore- The Huge Asshole.

"Oh, there's so much to say about ol' Albus," she said with great affection.  "He was a bit evil, you know. True, we all know him as a compassionate man with twinkly, piercing blue eyes who spent his life preaching unity and working to educate our children in a warm, though highly dangerous environment," she reflected with a tone of voice sweeter than your great aunt, the one you didn't smother, “but he was a bastard. He had a sister who was a retard or something."

Skeeter chuckled, her laugh as soothing as tiny churchbells on the feet of angels. "One person told me he raped puppies and smeared their feces on his chest."

This reporter felt more fortunate than even magically printed words can say to have spent this short time with the wonderful human being, Rita Skeeter.

 

 


End file.
